


Witchers Are, After All, Only Dumb Beasts

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dehumanization, Humiliation, M/M, Prostate Milking, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unethical Experimentation, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: Eskel should have known better than to believe the young man who said he'd always wanted to sleep with a witcher. But he couldn't have known that there was a sorcerer out there looking to acquire a witcher as part of an entrepreneurial venture.
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 89
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Witchers Are, After All, Only Dumb Beasts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober 2020 day 12: "I think I've broken something." Thanks to some_stars for beta assistance!

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a witcher,” the lad had said. 

Eskel should have known better than to think anyone could look at his face and say such a thing. But he hadn’t had a tumble in quite a while--the last had been a whore in Novigrad who made him pay double and douse all the lights, but at least didn’t stink of fear. Geralt had been spending more time with his bard lately, and Eskel didn’t intend to be the fly in that ointment. Geralt deserved nice things.

Even if this young man only wanted Eskel because he was a witcher, even if he expected Eskel to growl and posture and dominate so he could get off on the thrill of being in bed with a beast, that would be better than nothing, marginally. So Eskel agreed.

He’d left the tavern with the young man, and he’d agreed to a tryst in a barn, and the last thing he’d remembered was following the young man into the hay-smelling building, and then… nothing.

Eskel awoke in a dim, stone-walled room, hanging from metal cuffs that had the slight blue glow of dimeritium. His ankles also bore cuffs that were attached to the wall with a short chain. His head swam and his stomach roiled, but he didn’t seem to have any major injuries or be missing any limbs. As he took stock of his body, however, he did notice, first, that he was naked, and second, that strange, arcane symbols had been painted onto his skin, clustered around his belly and thighs. 

Before Eskel could speculate about what the hell the symbols might mean, a low, cultured voice drew his attention. 

“He’s awake at last.” The man standing at the far end of the dim room had the kind of timeless beauty that marked him as a sorcerer, even aside from his supercilious attitude. He flicked a hand towards Eskel. “You may begin, Filip.” 

The young man who’d propositioned Eskel last night approached. He held a glass jar in one hand and wore a grim expression, though he didn’t meet Eskel’s eyes. 

“May I ask who I have the pleasure of being captured by?” Eskel asked, looking at the mage. He was wracking his brain, trying to remember if he’d infuriated any magicians recently. That was more Geralt’s specialty than Eskel’s. And in any case, Eskel would bet his next contract’s pay that he’d never seen this sorcerer before. 

“Gag him,” the mage said. “We don’t need to be distracted from our task.”

The young man, Filip, apparently, pulled a length of cloth from his pocket, set down his jar, and set about tying the cloth around Eskel’s mouth. Eskel decided not to bite the kid’s fingers off. Obviously he wasn’t the mastermind here, and if he’d screwed Eskel over by luring him into the clutches of this mage, well, Eskel really, really should have known better. The boy cinched the knot tight, digging into the corners of Eskel’s mouth and tugging uncomfortably at the edge of his scar.

“Better,” the mage said, once it was done. “Begin.”

Filip settled on his knees at Eskel’s feet. He spit into his hand before wrapping his fingers around Eskel’s soft cock and beginning to stroke him. 

Eskel could imagine few scenarios less arousing than this one--fucking on Sad Albert, perhaps, or in a pile of drowner guts--but nevertheless, his cock began rapidly to harden. The rough, too-dry strokes felt better than any stimulation he’d ever received before. With a surprised grunt, Eskel squinted down at the runes marked into his skin. Some of them glowed slightly with a warm, white light. 

Eskel pulled against the chains and formed his fingers into Aard, but he couldn’t summon any magical force, unsurprisingly. And in any case, it was increasingly difficult to concentrate with Filip stroking his cock. His hips had started to rock forward into the contact of their own volition, and Eskel forced himself to stop, for what little good that did. His cock twitched in the boy’s hand and he felt his orgasm roll over him like a crushing wave. 

Eskel grunted into his gag, and felt the cold lip of the glass jar against his cock as Filip held it up to catch Eskel’s issue. Filip stroked his cock through the last throes as if to make sure he’d gotten all of Eskel’s spend. Even when Eskel jerked in his chains, the stimulation becoming uncomfortable on his too-sensitive cock, the man didn’t relent until he was certain he’d retrieved all the available seed. 

“Show me,” the sorcerer demanded. 

Filip stood and displayed the jar, which held what looked like quite a paltry amount of Eskel’s issue. 

The sorcerer sighed. “We can do better than that, I think.” He spoke a few words in Elder that Eskel didn’t catch. The runes on Eskel’s skin burned with white-hot power for a fraction of a second. And then Eskel’s cock was stiffening again. 

_Shit,_ Eskel thought. 

They worked on him for several hours, though Eskel found it hard to keep track of the time. His cock felt raw and sore, his muscles trembled from the uncomfortable position,and every time he came, he felt weaker. Before long, he was hanging limp in his chains, squeezing his eyes shut against the pleasure-tinged agony as Filip stroked him to yet another orgasm.

At last, Eskel was snapped out of his reverie by the sorcerer’s voice. “All right. That’s enough for tonight. At this rate, we’ll be stuck doing this for weeks,” the sorcerer said with an aggrieved sigh.

“Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord, but some men at the brothel, they come more if you put something up the arse,” Filip said as he brought the half-full jar to the sorcerer. “Drives ‘em wild.”

“You have such an instrument?” the sorcerer asked.

“We have a few things that might be useful."

“Very well.” The sorcerer gave Eskel a long look, to which Eskel only had the energy to return a half-hearted glare. “ Bring whatever might suit. Make sure he’s fed and watered, and we’ll begin again in the morning.”

Eskel’s chains were lowered enough that he could curl up on the bare stone floor. Feeling flooded back into his hands, agonizing as his nerves returned to life. Filip brought in a flagon of water and a plate of food before closing the door securely behind him. Eskel had just enough slack to move his hands to his mouth, for which he was very grateful. He barely had the strength to eat and drink before collapsing on the floor. 

He awoke only when the door clanged open and his chains were tightened once more to hold him upright. Filip and the mage were talking with each other, examining some items on a table at the far end of the room. They ignored Eskel as if he were a dumb beast. And to them, Eskel realized, he was. Whatever they wanted from him, his mind had no part in it. They didn’t want knowledge or information, and didn’t require his participation, as they seemed to be able to force his arousal and climax against his will. Thus far, they seemed only to want as much come as he could produce. To them, he wasn’t a dangerous mutant or a formidable foe, just an animal. 

When Filip approached with another glass jar, Eskel kicked and struggled in his chains, ignoring the agony of the dimeritium cutting into his wrists. Filip jumped backwards with a squeak, but the mage only sighed. 

“Stop struggling, or we’ll start cutting off fingers, and then limbs. You don’t need those for our purposes, so it’s up to you if you keep them.”

Eskel subsided, glaring hotly at the mage. The mage returned his look coldly, and Eskel had no doubt he meant his threat. Damn. 

Filip approached cautiously, and this time Eskel didn’t fight. Filip had brought a carved wooden phallus with him. Eskel closed his eyes and felt his cheeks heat, knowing that if a dry hand-job had made him come so easily, he had no hope of holding out against an experienced hand using such a tool on him. 

Sure enough, as soon as Filip had slid the oil-slicked length into Eskel, his cock rose, and it wasn’t long at all before Filip was deftly catching Eskel’s issue in another jar. 

“Mm, promising,” the mage said, cocking his head. “Continue.”

Eskel couldn’t be certain, as he had no way to measure the time, but he thought they wrung orgasms out of him even more quickly with the aid of the toy. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to get hard and come again so soon after the previous times, and so many times in a row, but whatever magic the mage had done seemed perfectly capable of pushing Eskel beyond normal limits. That didn’t mean it was pleasant, however. Eskel felt raw and wrung out before they were even half done by him. And by the end of the day, exhaustion and agony had overlaid his arousal so thickly that he barely felt it when he came. 

Filip wiped Eskel down with a cold cloth, loosened his chains, and again set some food and water within reach before they left Eskel alone in his cell. 

Eskel lay still for a long time before he could bear to move enough to reach for the water. His cock felt stripped raw, and pain radiated from his hole in hot, pulsing throbs in time with his heartbeat. And his balls ached terribly. After so many hours of being drained again and again, they now felt full to bursting. He didn’t manage to consume much, and instead curled up as best he could around the agony between his legs and fell into an exhausted stupor. 

The next days passed in a blur. There was little to differentiate one moment from another: always, Eskel was either hanging by his chains being pumped for come, or slumped on the floor of his cell, groaning in pain. The mage and his assistant, however, did make some attempts to refine their procedure. 

One day they chained Eskel on his knees, and Filip demonstrated a little crank-operated machine that could work the phallus in and out of Eskel more efficiently. The mage was well pleased with that development, as they could take fewer breaks for Filip to rest his hand. They tried this compound or that slipped into Eskel’s water. He could smell when something was added, but was always too thirsty to refuse it. Most of what they tried had little, if any, effect upon a witcher’s metabolism, but they did hit on some compound that stoked Eskel’s arousal considerably, making him desperate for the stimulation provided by Filip’s hand and the phallus. The mage seemed disappointed that it didn’t result in any greater volume of issue, but it did leave Eskel in a kind of brain-melting haze, whining and inarticulately begging for more at every moment when an orgasm wasn’t whiting out his vision and stealing his breath. Both the mage and Filip seemed to find this amusing, even if its utility was minimal, so the compound became a regular additive to Eskel’s rations. 

And each day, the line between pain and pleasure blurred, as Eskel’s world became one long scream of sensation, his ass, his cock, and his balls sensitive and throbbing and always driving him to the edge of another climax. At night he shivered on the floor, hips jerking automatically as if searching for more stimulation as the day’s dose of aphrodisiac worked its way out of his system. 

In the minimal time each day when he could form conscious thoughts that weren’t a desperate need to come or an abject disgust at his condition, Eskel began to wonder how, if he survived this, his body would be permanently altered. Witcher bodies could adapt to almost anything. Already, the agony of having his raw cock handled or sore his ass penetrated was inextricably linked with the understanding that an intense orgasm would soon follow. He couldn’t imagine after that anything like a gentle, sensual bout of lovemaking could satisfy him after this. 

The days had become very much the same, once the mage had found a combination of techniques that achieved his desired results. Eskel’s task was only to endure the pleasure-tinged pain as they used his body, and try to hold back the more embarrassing pleas for more. But one morning--he thought it was morning--something was different. 

When the mage entered the room, he was accompanied by a figure in long, sweeping robes, with a hood pulled down hiding their face in shadow. 

“I assure you it’s an excellent investment,” the mage was saying. “I’m only extending the opportunity to a very few. You won’t be disappointed, my lady.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said a clear, cold voice. “Let me see what you have.”

The mage nodded to Filip, who positioned Eskel and began to stroke him off while operating the phallus, which was perfectly angled to provide Eskel with inescapable stimulation. With as much practice as they’d had at the procedure, it didn’t take long at all for Eskel to come. Filip brought the jar with Eskel’s semen to the mage for examination.

“That doesn’t seem like much,” said the lady in the cloak.

“It isn’t. However, we can harvest almost continuously.” The sorcerer spoke the words in Elder to activate the runes, and Eskel’s cock began to rise again. 

“Mm. Clever.” The lady did not seem that impressed. 

Eskel would have chuckled, if he hadn’t been writhing in his bonds, biting down on the excruciating urge to beg as he pushed back against the wooden phallus still lodged inside him and humped forward uselessly into the air. 

“Have you tested the effects of the material?” the woman asked.

“The potency is as I reported in my message. We’ve tested a number of very promising applications,” the mage said. “If anything, this material exceeds the original sample.”

“Interesting. And what about demand?”

“I have several nobles who’ve already expressed an interest. When they see its effects, they’ll spread the word to their friends.” The mage waved a hand at Eskel. “No one needs to know it comes from this ugly brute. We’ll put the famous one on the label, that White Wolf fellow. People will pay a pretty penny for it.”

“Mmm, you have thought of everything, haven’t you?” the lady asked.

“Yes. I’m quite confident in the profitability of--”

The woman threw her hand out towards the mage, and a bolt of power flew from her fingertips. The mage screamed as he fell, waving a hand wildly, but the noise cut off abruptly, and he collapsed to the floor. 

Filip backed away, holding up his hands as the lady advanced towards him. 

“Mercy, please!” Filip cried, clasping his hands.

The sorceress flung back her hood, showing magnificently, curly locks and a freckled face Eskel knew well. 

“Triss,” he cried, muffled slightly by the gag. 

Without taking her eyes from Filip, she stepped over to Eskel and pulled the dirty, spit-soaked gag from his mouth. The brush of her warm skin against his face pulled a whimper from Eskel, and his hips jerked forward as he came, spilling his seed against the stone floor instead of into a jar for once. 

Triss glanced down briefly, but to Eskel’s immense relief, didn’t comment. She inclined her head towards Filip. “Did this one hurt you, too?” she asked.

“He’s just a boy,” Eskel said, forcing the words out with some difficulty. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken. 

“That’s not a real answer.” Triss pulled her attention away from Filip to raise an eyebrow at Eskel.

Eskel swallowed hard and shook his head. “Don’t kill him.”

Triss stepped towards Filip, her hand held up, crackling with the power that had felled the mage. “Get out,” she hissed. “Do not seek to harm a witcher again, or a curse will come upon you.”

“Yes, mistress. No, mistress,” Filip babbled as he backed away, then turned and scampered out. 

“Well.” Triss turned back to Eskel, valiantly managing to look him in the eye. “Let’s get you out of here.”

As she retrieved the key from the mage’s belt to unlock the dimeritium cuffs, Eskel asked, “How did you know I was here?”

“I heard a rumor about an experiment being done on a witcher and came to check it out.” Triss gingerly placed the key in the lock of the shackles and turned in, careful not to touch the metal. “Hold still.”

She’d thought it was Geralt. That’s the only reason any sorceress would have tried to help a witcher. But in this case, Eskel could be grateful for Geralt’s involvement with sorceresses. 

Triss unlocked the second shackle, and Eskel’s knees gave out, dropping him onto the cold stone floor. 

“Eskel! You all right?” Triss crouched beside him and put a hand on his bare shoulder.

Eskel flinched away. Her touch sent sparks of pleasure through him, causing his cock to stiffen again. The signals for pain and pleasure were so well and truly scrambled, he wasn’t certain how he could touch anyone or anything at the moment without coming. But he clenched his jaw and gave Triss a thin smile. He hadn’t realized she’d actually remember his name. “Thank you. Truly.”

“I would have freed any of you. A sorcerer trying to tap a witcher’s power can’t be allowed to continue. Even if he’s just a selfish, money-grubbing ass,” Triss said, glaring at the mage’s body.

That was kind of her to say. And Eskel was too tired to argue. “I’m grateful,” he said again. “And I need to find some clothes.”

“Right, yes.” Triss stood, and didn’t move to touch Eskel again as he wobbled to his feet. “Let’s get out of town before anyone else starts making designs on your various parts.”

“Right.” Eskel forced out a hoarse laugh. Considering how difficult it had been for him to find willing partners before, and the ways in which this mage’s experiments had certainly altered him for the worse, Eskel felt certain that no one would be making any designs on his parts for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> For more Witcher ponderings and procrastination, come find me on Tumblr: [brighteyedjill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brighteyedjill)


End file.
